


Mashed Potatoes

by CloudedCreation



Category: Psyren
Genre: Ageha is thinking, Gen, God Complex, I Don't Even Know, Introspection, Mental Anguish, and it's rather depressing, potentially triggering imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudedCreation/pseuds/CloudedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans are like ants, he thinks, as he stands over them with his foot raised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mashed Potatoes

It is strange, going forth and back over and over, noting the little things that set them apart each time. A difference, in who lives and who dies, a building that doesn’t exist in another place – another future.

Ageha can’t help but wonder what happens to the other futures he’s been to. Do they simply disappear? Do they get washed away, like a castle made of sand when the tide comes in, or do they continue to exist, simply somewhere else?

He can’t decide which one he’d rather be true. It hurts his head to think about, a headache pulsing and beating like a heart behind his eyes, but more than that it hurts his soul.

Because he’s playing with lives. The lives of everyone he’s met and everyone he hasn’t.

He feels like a god so much sometimes it’s scary. The powers he has at his command so massive it feels like he’s drowning in them, the expectations and the sheer force behind them.

Humans are like ants, he thinks, as he stands over them with his foot raised. So small and fragile, working so hard and so very strong even though one can’t really tell from so far up, they can accomplish whatever they set out to do, as long as they’re given the time.

They are so disgustingly easy to kill, though, no matter how he tries not to. It only takes a step, and even when he tries to go where no one is, they’re all around him, in every single direction, and he’s simply not able to _not_ step on one.

A thousand.

A million.

And when he lifts his foot, there’s no counting the lost, because everything is like one big pile of broken flesh and bones, and he’s not able to match the pieces together.

Mashed potatoes, he thinks, and hungers, because it’s a long time since he last ate.

**Author's Note:**

> Want me to write you a psyren fic of your choice? Head over to [this](http://ao3auction.tumblr.com/cloudedcreation) page and bid on me in the authorauction to support the continuation of this wonderful site!


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